


The Birth of the Lamb

by HollyMartins



Series: The Lamb Series [1]
Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Angst, Childbirth, Hannibal Big Bang, Hannibal Lecter - Freeform, Hannigram - Freeform, M/M, Miscarriage, Mpreg, NBCHannibalBigBang, Original Character(s), Post-Episode: s03e13 The Wrath of the Lamb, Post-Finale, Will Graham - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-22
Updated: 2016-09-22
Packaged: 2018-08-16 14:52:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,917
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8106556
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HollyMartins/pseuds/HollyMartins
Summary: There had been a baby once.____
In the year after the Fall, Will and Hannibal deal with an unplanned pregnancy. Will seems pleased. Hannibal struggles.





	

**Author's Note:**

> For the Hannibal Big Bang, I present my first foray into mpreg in the Hannibal fandom. Check out http://nonexistenz.tumblr.com/ for related art! This is unbetaed so please be gentle and be sure to stop by http://hollymartinswrites.tumblr.com/ to say hi! 
> 
> Remember, comments are love!

There had been a baby once.

Hannibal had realized it almost immediately after conception but by then, it was already too late. He was in shackles. The Ripper had been caught and nothing—not even a child—could save him now.

So Hannibal told no one. He refused to look surprised when his pregnancy was revealed during the medical examination and sat impassively during the flurry of panicked activity surrounding him. He had no doubt that Jack and Alana, even Chilton, were starring at him via the two-way mirror, discussing what to do, what to make of the Chesapeake Ripper being with child. Somehow, they managed to convince his lawyer to not say anything to the media and for that, Hannibal was grateful. He had no desire to see Will's name in the tabloids, reduced to the lover of a monster.

So Hannibal sat in his cell and said nothing. He retreated into his mind palace, and began crafting a nursery for the child—their child. He clenched his eyes shut and swallowed. It was too cruel to use the plural. As far as Hannibal knew, Will had not been informed. Or worse, he had and had chosen to ignore it. Ignore him.

But Will had always wanted a child. Hannibal had no doubt of that.

So Hannibal waited. He plead guilty. He sat in his cell and calculated the child's due date. He requested prenatal vitamins and was denied. He was refused anything more than perfunctory care. He had always known pregnancy behind bars was difficult but this was almost inhumane. Nonetheless, he focused on the life inside him, retreated into his mind palace, meticulously decorated the nursery, and dreamed of a child with blue eyes and dark curls.

 

It happened while he was sleeping. He was visiting the imagined nursery when the coppery smell of blood hit him. He awoke to tightening pain and allowed himself one scream. Later, he wondered just who he had screamed for.

Even with the cramps, the blood, and the blinding fear, he was still shackled, masked, and incapacitated as he was wheeled to the infirmary. He said nothing to the medical team. He knew already it was gone. He retreated again into his head, away from the stark bright lights of the operating room and remembered leaving Abigail to drown in her own blood.

When he next opened his eyes, it was over. He had not been allowed to let his body expel the fetus naturally. There was no time for healing. He was shackled to the bed, mask in place, and tried to remember the side effects of such a procedure. When he was returned to his cell, he was put on suicide watch, stripped naked, and watched the guards blandly watch him in rotation. The smell of blood never seemed to leave his skin.

Eventually, he was deemed stable again—though he had never considered himself unstable—and Alana, pregnant with the Verger heir, supervised his transition back to his ordinary cell. Hannibal said nothing about her pregnancy and neither did she. She wasn't showing yet and he doubted many knew about it. He could smell it though. It made him gag.

The nursery grew grey and dusty in his mind palace. He finally decided to lock it, and threw the key out of the highest window in the tallest tower, and tried to forget.

But like Will, the baby was always in his mind and he wondered how grief-stricken Will would be to know that he had lost a third child.

Hannibal shut his eyes and was afraid of falling asleep—afraid that he would be jolted to consciousness to the sharp, strong scent of blood. He never visited the locked nursery in his mind palace, no matter how often he passed the sealed door in his mind.

 

Hannibal remembered all of this as he stared at his reflection.

The new child inside him was evident now. He had passed the tricky first trimester and now, miracle of miracles, was still pregnant. He hadn't dared hope before. Between his age and the mad, tense lifestyle of running from country to country, always on high-alert after their defeat of the Dragon and their fall into the Atlantic, he had never expected this to happen. It was almost too much to bear.

Will walked into the bathroom, rubbing his eyes and yawning.

"Hey," he whispered, and wrapped his arms around Hannibal, his hands resting on his 16-weeks-pregnant belly. "What a sight."

Hannibal cocked his head and regarded the two of them.

"Did you ever think that this could be?" he asked.

"No," Will replied, kissing his neck. "I never even dreamed it could be like this."

"You wanted us to die that night," Hannibal observed and Will tensed.

"Yes," he sighed. "I thought we could only destroy life. Not create it."

"Creation and destruction," Hannibal said, placing his hands over Will's, "aren't they basically the same thing?"

"Inverses," Will continued, "of the same thing, I suppose."

"And they are both the most powerful forces on the planet."

Will nodded and ran his hands along Hannibal's bare sides.

"Look at what we're capable of," he hummed in Hannibal's ear before kissing him again.

Hannibal did not reveal that several weeks ago, his heart had lurched when he noticed spotting in his pants and he had mutely accepted that they were never capable of life.

 

Will gasped as Hannibal lifted himself off of him and all but collapsed on the bed beside him. They were slick with sweat and they both shivered in the night air.

"I wish you could see yourself like this," Will managed after a few moments catching his breath. "I don't think I'll ever get tired of holding onto your belly as you ride me."

"It'll only last a few more months," Hannibal replied, brushing his longish hair out of his eyes. "Make the most of it."

"I intend to."

Will rolled over onto his side and gazed at Hannibal, his belly rising with each breath he took.

"We need to decide on a plan," he said, yawning.

"Plan?" Hannibal repeated. "What nefarious ideas are you thinking about now?"

"Nothing like that," Will said, his eyes closing. "A birth plan."

Hannibal was quiet for a long moment.

"I've already thought of that."

"Oh?" Will asked, raising an eyebrow. "Was I going to be involved in it at all?"

"Of course," Hannibal huffed. "It'll be at home, with you assisting."

"Assisting?" Will opened his eyes and stared at Hannibal. "Assisting with what exactly?"

"The birth, of course."

Will sat up.

"Are you insane?"

"More or less," Hannibal replied.

"I can't do that," Will continued. "We need a doctor."

"You know the rules, Will," Hannibal sighed, far too tired to go into this conversation at the moment, "no doctors. No hospitals."

"This is different! This isn't a bullet hole or a dislocated shoulder."

"I'm more than aware of that."

"Hannibal, listen to me," Will said urgently, "we can't do this on our own. We need help."

"I've delivered my fair share of babies in my time in the ER," Hannibal said nonchalantly. "And you received training on it as a police officer, didn't you?"

"Yeah, twenty years ago!" Will ran a hand through his sheared hair. "And I've never had to actually do it."

"We'll manage."

"But what if something goes wrong? You haven't exactly been getting proper prenatal care as it is."

"Millions of people around the world don't and deliver healthy babies."

"But they're not all nearly fifty and isolated with no one to help them! You know the chances of birth defects increase with age. Something could easily go wrong."

Hannibal sighed and turned onto his side, away from Will.

"Hannibal," Will said gently, laying his hand on his shoulder. "We can't do this alone. You must realize that. And I—I can't lose you again."

"What of the baby?" Hannibal asked after a few moments' consideration.

"I don't want to lose the baby either but my main concern is you," Will insisted. "If something were to happen to you because we weren't prepared, I don't know what I'd do."

Hannibal stared out the open window at the bright moon above, full and heavy in the sky. He rather felt like the moon at the moment.

"If we lost the baby," Hannibal begins softly, "you wouldn't leave me?"

Will laid his lips on Hannibal's shoulders.

"I'd be devastated, of course," he whispered, "but without you, I wouldn't even be human anymore."

Hannibal reached behind and pulled Will's arm over him, resting it across his gravid belly.

"I will educate you on how to deliver a baby," he said finally. "And if we must, we can find a midwife somewhere."

Will was silent before Hannibal felt him nod.

"We should find another place to live," he said. "We can't raise a child in this country. It's not safe."

Hannibal sighed and nodded, dreading another escape but Will was right, of course. They had been here too long and the risk was too great.

"Leave it to me," Hannibal whispered. "Everything will happen as it should."

 

Hannibal found them a country with no extradition laws to the United States. They sailed there, much to Hannibal's displeasure but it was safer. Luckily, they did not encounter any squalls and he only vomited once a day (twice the day Will cooked scrambled eggs). By the time they were settled in their new home, a rather lovely cottage overlooking a lake that Chiyoh had acquired for them, Hannibal was approaching his 28th week.

He rarely slept through the night, felt distinctly ungainly, and couldn't help but be irritated by Will's constant fussing. He knew, logically, that mood swings were normal but he nonetheless couldn't help but lash out every time Will asked if he was alright. Will, bless him, would simply smile and kiss him and accept any verbal abuse and the occasional crying spell. Those, thankfully, were few and far between.

Each day brought him closer and closer to the birth and, oddly enough, it seemed to become less real the more the child grew inside him. It was almost as if his body was no longer his; he was merely a vessel, not in control, and at the mercy of primal forces. By all accounts, Hannibal hated it.

He still dreamt of blood and Abigail, even Mischa, and a few times, a nameless curly-haired child with blue eyes, standing at the food of his bed; an ominous warning that this one, too, would join them in the afterlife. Hannibal would often wake up drenched in sweat, his bladder near bursting, and a headache gripping him.

Then the child could kick and he'd exhale a shaking breath and remember that somehow, this one was still alive. He'd stare at his reflection in the bathroom mirror and wonder if the dreams were prophetic; if Will's worries would prove true.He was right, of course. Pregnancy and childbirth at his age was not the safest.

Hannibal sighed and drank cool water from the faucet. Will had no idea that the real reason why he had avoided doctors and midwives was not for their safety but because Hannibal couldn't help but feel that this was not real.

He couldn't truly hope that the child would be born alive, yet alone healthy. Doubt plagued his mind every time he felt the child move within him. Other times, he assumed that he would not survive. He greatly preferred that scenario—it would be Hannibal's greatest gift to Will: the death he had sought so often in return for a life he had always desired.

He never voiced these thoughts to Will, of course. Let him enjoy these last few weeks together in peace.

 

It was raining when Hannibal first felt it.

Will was sleeping. Hannibal, as usual, was awake. He sat on the window seat, ponderous and heavy, gazing out as he counted the minutes. It still felt unreal.

He decided to not wake Will until he had to. It was rather like killing, he realized—he preferred doing this alone.

He laboriously stood and went into the tiny kitchen, searching for the juice Will had made him the night before. The baby had dropped days ago and he was grateful to be able to breathe easily again. Still, the walk to the kitchen was difficult, between the sudden contraction and low pressure in his pelvis. He poured the juice into a glass and carried it to the couch, slowly easing onto it. He closed his eyes, sipped his drink, and wondered what the day would bring.

 

_Open it._

_No._

_Hanni_ , Mischa said, rolling her eyes, _you have to open it. Where is the baby going to sleep?_

_There is no baby._

Mischa reached up and took his hand, pulling him towards the nursery door he had locked years ago.

_Of course there's a baby,_ Mischa replied. _Can't you feel it?_

_It isn't really there. It's a trick._

Mischa yanked Hannibal's arm again and he knelt in front of her. She laid her tiny hands on the side of his face and shook her head sadly.

_It's no trick_ , she said. _You told me there's no such thing as magic, remember?_

_This is different._

_Hanni, unlock the door._

_But—_

_The baby is coming and she needs a nursery._

_She?_

_Of course,_ Mischa said brightly, _can't you feel her?_

_I—_

_Hannibal, open the door._

He reached out slowly, his fingers grazing the doorknob, coated in dust.

_Go on, Hannibal. Open it. Hannibal._

He grasped it and turned the knob, his heart in his throat.

_That's it. She'll be here soon, won't she, Hannibal?_

"Hannibal!"

He gasped and opened his eyes.

Will was kneeling in front of him, his hands on either side of Hannibal's face, peering wide-eyed at him.

"There you are," Will sighed, visibly relaxing. "What happened?"

"I—" A pain grew abruptly and he gasped, curling over himself.

"How long have you been in labor?" Will asked as Hannibal steadied his breathing and sat up again.

"I... what time is it?" Hannibal blinked stupidly and looked around himself. He was on the sofa and though it was still raining, the sky had brightened.

"It's 8 o'clock," Will said, running his hands along Hannibal's arms. "I woke up and you were gone. I was so scared."

"I'm sorry," Hannibal said. "I think... I think it's been five hours since it started. I had some juice and ate some fruit. Walked for a little because of the pressure. Then I must've sat down again to rest and..."

Will gazed at him gently.

"You lost yourself a bit, it looked," he said. "Your mind palace?"

"Yes," he hissed as another contraction grew.

"We need to time them," Will said anxiously.

Hannibal nodded.

"The supplies are all ready," he bit out. "In the bedroom."

"Do you want to try to stand up again? Do some walking?"

Hannibal closed his eyes and nodded again. Will stood and reached out and somehow, Hannibal was on his feet. The two men stared at one another and Hannibal felt a shudder go through him, unrelated to the contractions.

"Will," he breathed.

"Yes? Are you okay?"

Hannibal blinked and whispered, "We're having a baby."

The smile Will bestowed on him was dazzling.

"Yeah, yeah, we are."

 

The next several hours were a hazy fog of waves of pain and discomfort. Sometime around eleven, Hannibal's waters broke and the sudden pressure took Hannibal completely by surprised, his legs nearly giving out beneath him.

"I got you," Will said firmly, grasping him. "It's okay. Just breathe through it. We're in this together."

Hannibal barely heard him. The door to the nursery was locked tight and no matter how hard he twisted the knob, it refused to budge.

"Lie down," he gasped, "I need to lie down for a moment."

Will helped him to the bed, and Hannibal all but collapsed onto it, his chest heaving with each breath. He glanced down at his body—realizing suddenly he was naked; he didn't recall getting undressed—and gazed at his swollen belly, so comically large compared to the rest of him.

"It's tight," he gasped and groaned with the strength of another contraction.

"I know," Will said, running a cool cloth down his face, neck, and chest. "It's on its way now. Can I check how dilated you are again?"

Hannibal nodded and let his legs fall open, feeling weak and exhausted. He barely winced as Will checked his progression.

"Nine centimeters. You're doing so good, Hannibal." Will grinned at him and kissed his knee. "You're doing this. You're amazing."

"No," Hannibal moaned, the rational side of his mind that still didn't quite believe this was all happening horrified, "no, it won't open."

"What won't open?"

"The door," he gasped and moaned as another contraction shook him.

"What door? Hannibal, talk to me. What's wrong?"

Hannibal's eyes were clenched shut and the only thing he recognized was pain. Pain and heaviness and tightness and the sensation of a scream building in his throat.

"The baby," he managed to gasp out.

"What about it?" Will asked, panic evident in his voice.

"The other baby," Hannibal moaned, very near tears. "I lost it and locked up the door. Aš labai atsiprašau."

"What other baby? Hannibal, what are you talking about? The baby's fine, it's coming."

"No, in prison," and a contraction interrupted him. "Nearly four years ago. I was pregnant when I was arrested but I miscarried. No one told you."

Will stared at him as he groaned, clutching his swollen belly.

"Why—Hannibal, I—"

"Aš labai atsiprašau.," Hannibal sobbed. "I'm so sorry."

Will reached up and brushed the sweaty hair out of Hannibal's eyes.

"Focus on this baby," he whispered urgently. "Focus on us right now. In this moment. Please, Hannibal. We need you."

_Your baby needs you, Hanni. And she needs a nursery._

"Ne, ne, ne," he moaned, the pain relentless.

"Yes, you can... Hannibal, are you pushing?"

_Your baby is coming and she needs you._

"Mischa," he gasped.

_Open the door, Hanni. And meet your baby._

"Hannibal, stop! I have to check you!"

The door was right in front of him. This time, he noticed white light spilling out from underneath it. He reached out and grasped the knob. It turned easily.

Hannibal gasped and arched his back.

"She's coming," he panted. "I need to push."

"You're okay," Will said from the foot of the bed. "You're dilated fully. You can push when you feel ready."

"Back," he grunted. "I need to get off my back. Hands and knees."

With strength he didn't even know he possessed, Hannibal managed to turn onto his hands and knees with Will's help.

"You got this," Will gasped, kissing him before retreating behind him again. "You can do this. Push when you're ready."

The urge to push was powerful and each time Hannibal bore down, he swore he heard multiple voices encouraging him on.

He cried out as he felt the baby's head begin to breech him, the burning momentarily overwhelming the pain. He felt Will press a warm cloth to his opening, providing a counterpressure to avoid tearing.

"Oh my God, it's right there," Will gasped in wonder. "Hannibal, our baby is right there."

With renewed strength, Hannibal gave a slow push and Will cried out in joy when the baby's head emerged in a gush of fluids.

"Hannibal, holy God, the baby's beautiful," he gasped, tears thick in his voice as he cradled the head. Hannibal stayed still, his legs shaking as Will siphoned the baby's nose and mouth and checked for a cord. "It's clear, just don't push, remember? Let it happen."

Hannibal moaned and fought the urge to bear down.

_Lookit, Hanni!_

He reached down between his legs and stretched, his fingers brushing a warm, solid mass.

"Will?" he gasped.

"That's it. That's our baby," Will laughed, joyous.

He felt it rotate inside him and one shoulder slipped out, followed quickly by another. He heaved one more time, pushing with all his might when suddenly there was abrupt, almost dizzying emptiness.

Will was speaking, talking rapidly with a tone of happiness Hannibal had never heard before. It was white noise compared to the loud and heart-stopping cries of a baby. Hannibal blinked and managed to get up on his knees, spread them, and reached down. Will understood and carefully brought his hands between his open, shaking, bloody legs. In his hands was a sight that nearly took Hannibal's breath away.

"Sveiki," he gasped as he collected the squalling infant. "There you are."

He noticed that the baby, naked, rather messy, still attached to him via the cord, and with a misshapen head, somehow managed to fit perfectly in his grasp. Not breathing, he brought it up to his chest, resting it against him, heartbeat to heartbeat. He blinked.

"Graži mergina," he said, awestruck. "Will, we have a daughter."

Will laughed wetly and kissed the side of his face multiple times.

"I know," he gasped. "I know, look at her. She's perfect."

Hannibal tightened his grasp on her and she quieted down, mewling petulantly in his arms. He watched as Will leaned down and kissed her, totally unaffected by the mucous and blood. Hannibal followed and closed his eyes as he did so, realizing that the door was open in a blaze of white light.

"She was right," he whispered.

"Who was?" Will asked, the grin etched on his face and his eyes never leaving their daughter.

"No one," Hannibal replied. He lifted one hand and ran his pinky gently along her lips. She immediately attempted to latch on. Will laughed. "Good reflexes."

"She's brilliant," Will sighed. The two men lifted their eyes and looked at one another. "Thank you."

Hannibal blinked.

"Will, I..." he trailed off. Will reached up and brushed a lock of hair behind his ear. "Thank you."

Will sniffed.

"We need to cut the cord. And then get her cleaned up. Are you feeling any contractions for the placenta?" he asked.

Hannibal shook his head, gazing down at the infant in his arms.

"Come on, I'll help you sit back."

Somehow, Will was able to assist Hannibal into a sitting up position, propped up by pillows. Hannibal winced as his knees and legs creaked and ached. Will tied off and cut the cord. The baby in his arms snuffled closer to his chest.

"She's cold," he said.

Will appeared with a warm blanket for her and together, they wrapped her up. She blinked blearily at them.

"I'll never get tired of looking at her," Will breathed.

"Nor I," Hannibal said. "I think I could bear the weight of her in my arms for eternity."

Will grinned and kissed him fully on the lips.

"She needs a name," he whispered.

Hannibal nodded.

"What is your name, little one?" he asked. "Tell us."

She opened her eyes and peered at her surroundings, curious. Her eyes were bright blue and astonishingly clear. The two men felt themselves fall into those clear eyes.

"Clarice," Will whispered suddenly, a wide-eyed look on his face as he stared at their daughter as if he had known her for years. "Her name is Clarice."

Hannibal blinked and gazed down at their daughter, turning the name over in his mind. A smile broke slowly over his face. He leaned down and nosed at her drying, downy hair.

"Hello, Clarice," he whispered.


End file.
